


Twilight Shadows

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-14
Updated: 2003-07-14
Packaged: 2019-07-20 08:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16133939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: “Ah,” Orlando said after a pause, while Elijah’s eyes traced Orlando’s outline, which was growing less distinct against the backdrop of furniture and picture frames, and silently willed him to explain Virginia Woolf. “That book.”





	Twilight Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> This story will probably make a great deal more sense if you have read _Orlando_ by Virginia Woolf, of which Mr. Bloom is the namesake. Sincere thanks to Cyndi for editing. Dedicated to Zarah, just because.

Elijah was on the couch when Orlando came home. He had been there for several hours now, contemplatively studying the sunset through a large picture-window and waiting. Elijah had been entrusted with a spare key to Orlando’s Los Angeles studio apartment, which perhaps he shouldn’t have used without explicit permission, but he was not particularly concerned. He had not called before coming over, deciding after some deliberation that this was one of those conversations that ought to take place in person, and when he had found the flat vacant it seemed only natural to let himself in.

So he was sitting in the twilight of a shadow-cast living room when Orlando walked in and threw his keys onto the counter with a clatter, and when Orlando turned and saw him he let out a string of curses that Elijah would have found amusing had he not been so preoccupied. He waited for Orlando to finish; considering, as he had been for the past few hours, how to begin.

“Bloody hell, Elijah!” Orlando finally concluded, taking a shaky breath. “You scared me out of my skin!”

Elijah was silent for several beats, still looking out the window at the colours bleeding to death on the horizon. “I read your book,” he said at last, turning away slowly to seek out Orlando’s shape in the gloom.

Orlando looked confused, then wary. “What book?” he asked carefully, taking a few steps towards Elijah and making an abortive move in the direction of a nearby lamp. Elijah was more than happy to stay in the shadows for the time being. He had hardly noticed them arrive, creeping in with the twilight, and now it seemed too sudden and disrespectful to chase them away with the flick of a switch.

“You know,” Elijah replied vaguely, unwilling to actually introduce names and characters, afraid that the confusion of people and places and times would somehow become more real if he did, spilling out into the cracks between shadows. Shadows, he knew, made everything that could possibly be real more so, and everything that seemed concrete less certain. The world became blurry around the edges. “ _The_ book.”

“Ah,” Orlando said after a pause, while Elijah’s eyes traced Orlando’s outline, which was growing less distinct against the backdrop of furniture and picture frames, and silently willed him to explain Virginia Woolf. “That book.”

Elijah remained mute, abruptly restless. He was fairly certain that they were on the same page now, at least. What he wasn’t sure of was how exactly to frame his next question. It wasn’t even a real question so much as a jumble of thoughts, which he hoped that Orlando would be able to untangle.

“So you want to talk about it?”

Orlando’s voice startled Elijah out of his contemplation, whisper-loud and low. It was perfect for the shadows, Elijah thought absently, a twilight-voice halfway between speech and silence. Elijah didn’t have a twilight voice, at least not that he knew of, and his mouth was suddenly too dry to risk an attempt. Still, Orlando was waiting patiently for him, head cocked slightly in an unconscious listening pose. He tried to pull his thoughts into a coherent order, to explain at least some of his confusion.

“How could you not know? I mean, gender isn’t a variable, it just _is_. You’re either male or female, and that’s the way the world works. I don’t understand,” he finished, ending on a plea with some vague hope of having the truth set down in front of him, black-and-white with no gray shadows. He wasn’t even sure of why he was so convinced that Orlando would have the answers. It just made sense in his head that the one person he knew who was named after this book would be able to explain it to him, would of course know everything about it because it was _his_ book, after all.

Orlando was still for a moment, vague and undefined. Elijah blinked, tried to find a stark silhouette rather than a shaded blur. It was hard to focus; Orlando was all sharp edges and flat planes and smooth curves, shadow-shifty and insubstantial, and Elijah shivered a little as he watched.

“Who said that they didn’t know?” Orlando responded slowly, still hushed, but without intent; as if he were unaware that his voice had dropped in pitch and volume. “‘There could be no doubt…’” he quoted softly, and just hearing the words spoken out loud brought chills to Elijah’s spine, made them real and suddenly a part of this world rather than the other.

“I would know,” Elijah said without thinking, not at all what he had been planning to say next. He shifted listlessly, wishing that he could call the words back from the void into which they had vanished, feeling Orlando’s smile on his skin even though it was hidden by the shadows.

“Would you?” Orlando asked, tone curious and playful. “How could you be certain?”

“I would just know,” Elijah insisted, although he was anything but certain. He wished helplessly for a light, for artificial illumination to chase away the twilight from Orlando’s voice.

“But how?” Orlando pushed gently. “By sight? By hearing? By scent?” Slight pause, rustle of fabric. “By touch?”

 _Taste_ , Elijah’s mind filled in, and his mouth solidified the thought before his brain could send out a warning.

“I could kiss and know,” he said, and then, “I couldn’t kiss and not know.”

“Oh?” Another soft rustle, and then he was aware of Orlando kneeling by his side on the floor next to the couch. It had grown steadily darker as they conversed, the twilight gaining momentum and hurtling them into the darkness of night. Elijah could no longer see Orlando’s face, just a deeper shadow catching the occasional glint of stray light as it tried to escape the impending black. He could hear breathing, though, more regular and even than his own, could feel it soft as a summer breeze ghosting across his skin.

“Yes,” Elijah whispered, leaning forward into the dark and hearing the twilight in his own voice, wondered if he had stolen it from Orlando or if they were merging now, blending together as all of the colours became shades of gray, and all the grays turned to black.

He could feel heat in the darkness, rising from Orlando’s skin to warm him. Without any real conscious effort his head had drifted down towards Orlando’s, his eyelids drooping shut as he gave up on vision and focused his other senses. Orlando was so close that their lips were almost touching, so close that Elijah could feel him breathe. They hovered there for countless seconds, held in that misty vacuum between day and night, and then they came together, seemingly without movement, fusing into one.

Orlando’s lips were dry and warm, firm but soft, and Elijah stayed motionless against him for a few more breaths, testing the feeling. Then he applied a bit more pressure, felt Orlando respond slowly and so gently that it made him ache, rough dry lips moving against his. Orlando was yielding beneath his mouth, pliant, opening to the first hesitant lick of Elijah’s questing tongue.  
Elijah was flooded with heat, growing bolder with every second that Orlando submitted. He rejoiced in the dominance, mind fogging over as his body began to demand more contact. His tongue tangled roughly with Orlando’s, dancing and twisting and exploring. A soft whimper cleared the haze from his thoughts, made him relax and slow until they were back at the beginning, with Orlando’s lips closed beneath his, wet and sweet.

Elijah’s hands were clutching the cushions; he released them as he raised his head, breaking contact with Orlando, eyes fluttering open and blinking in the dark. For a moment there was nothing but silence and the sound of their breathing, and Elijah’s mind painted vivid pictures of bodies twined together, steeped in lust and sex and shadows.

“What have you done to me?” he asked the darkness, and wasn’t really surprised when Orlando answered.

“Did it work?” Orlando asked, twilight-voice low and husky, deepening into midnight. Elijah had to take a moment to find the question, and another to determine the answer.

“No,” he whispered in return. “And yes.” He licked his lips, tasted Orlando. His eyes were growing more used to the dark now, pupils expanding as the last remnants of twilight fled.

“I think I understand now.”


End file.
